"Ugh! History sucks!" I groaned. I slammed my forehead against the kitchen table hard enough to make it shake, the pain causing me to groan louder. Nick growled in irritation and I heard him place his Detroit Tigers coffee mug on the counter a little bit louder than normal. I complained about history—and school in general—on a daily basis and it drove him bananas. He's the one that decided to home school me though, so it's his own fault.

"Will you please stop your complaining and finish filling out the worksheet?" Nick asked in exasperation. I narrowed my eyes at him and pursed my lips and he narrowed his one eye in return.

To other people, the sight of his injured left eye would probably seem pretty terrible. I'll admit that even I had a bit of a hard time getting used to it. But over the years I've lived with him I've gotten used to it, so he barely ever uses his dark sunglasses around me unless we've got company. (Which is rarer than rare.) He kept them on him at all times though, hanging on the front of his shirt. A precaution in case a salesman or a mailman knocked on the door.

We stared each other down for a few moments, the ticking of a clock somewhere in the living room the only sound in the house. A smile made its way to my lips and I was soon fighting back a giggle –I couldn't stay serious for very long. Nick's lips quirked up slightly, but other than that slight movement his expression remained stoic.

I turned back around in my seat and sighed quietly as any amusement drained from me. Just looking at the worksheet in front of me made me feel bored. I still had fifteen questions to answer out of twenty about the Atlantic slave trade and then I had a three-page essay to write afterward on Pablo Picasso for art. To top it off, I had to finish both assignments in less than three hours or Nick wouldn't let me go to band rehearsal. Right now, my life sucks.

Just to clarify, this is the second time I've been in a band. The first time didn't go so well because I only stayed in Oregon for one month before I was off to West Virginia. That was almost two years ago. In the month that I was there I found that I liked being in a band. I had learned my lesson the first time though and hadn't tried to join any new ones because Nick and I usually never stayed in one place for longer than three months. Until now, that is. It has been exactly five months and four days since we have moved to Grand Rapids, Michigan; the longest we've every stayed in one place so far. So I decided to give being in a band again a shot. It wasn't all that simple like it was last time and I won't go into details now about what I had to do to even get a stinking audition. All you need to know for now is that the band's name is Sleeping Tigers and that I play guitar.

For as long as I had been in the band I had never missed practice and I wasn't planning on starting anytime soon. So, despite the dullness of my assignment, I tried my best to actually pay attention to the questions on the paper. If I was lucky I would be able to at least make it to practice late—I've been late before; the band doesn't give me too much crap about it.

I scratched the back of my head with my pencil as I tried to remember where the ship from Africa went after packing the slaves onto the boat. I can't remember reading a thing about that. Pop quizzes: an enemy to every normal teen—not that I'm normal. I don't have a clue as to why, but ever since I was a child I've been able to read minds… among other things. I'm pretty sure it's the original reason that Nick chose to raise me.

I've had a complicated life so I'll give you the shortened version. At age five, I started reading minds. By age six, both my parents were killed and a psycho mind reader named Hunt adopted me. Finally, at age eight, I ran away and was taken in by Nick Fury, former spy and previous director to an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D. (Despite how long I've known him, that's about all I know about his past.)

After Nick took me under his wing, we started moving all over the place both because of my past and his. We've been all over the world for the eight and a half years we've been on the run and even though I resent never having enough time to make good friends, I have to admit that my life is pretty interesting—except when it comes to school, of course.

I twirled my chocolate brown hair around my pointer finger and blankly stared at the wall as I listened to Nick slurp from his Tiger's mug (he was in no way a fan of the Detroit Tigers, but it was a gift from our next door neighbor and he had needed more coffee cups). I sighed as I slid low in my chair while lazily letting my pencil fall from my hand. So much for paying attention to my assignment. I watched as the #2 pencil rolled across the table towards the edge. Just before it went over I used telekinesis to keep the pencil rolling across the air—one of my many abilities. It looked like it was rolling across an invisible extension of the table. The pencil came to a stop in the middle of the room and I stared at the upside-down made-up word I had carved into my pencil a few years ago. Sgwigglydoo. I smiled as I remembered Nick and I's last game of 'what if?' that year. Nick had asked, 'What if a pencil was called a sgwigglydoo?' I had giggled and answered by saying, 'What if a pen was called a twistyloo?'

I jumped out of my seat when there was a knock on the front door. My pencil immediately fell to the floor from my lack of concentration. I knew for a fact that Nick wasn't expecting anyone (no, I hadn't read his mind and I was never going to again) and neither was I. Automatically my mind lowered my mental wall enough to reach out to who was behind the door and I sensed seven separate streams of thoughts. However I didn't delve any deeper to see what they were thinking. There were seven people outside our door. My guard instantly went up.

I glanced at Nick and raised an eyebrow in a silent question I knew he understood. 'You want me to read their minds?' Nick gave a slight shake of the head and jabbed his thumb towards my bedroom door. I pursed my lips in annoyance, but complied. I walked up the stairs towards my room, leaving my worksheets behind.

Once I was in my room, I placed my hands on my hips. Part of me hoped that there was nothing serious going on in the living room and the other half wanted an excuse to stop doing school. I hated not knowing what was going on, especially when I could so easily find out just by going into one of the stranger's heads. But Nick evidently didn't want me to be doing that, otherwise he would have let me before he answered the door. Why didn't he, anyways? Was he expecting people to show up? I hated not having any answers to my questions and my frustration and nerves were growing by the second. I couldn't even distract myself properly. Nick had taught me to always be prepared and although the probability of the people being hostile was low—I doubt someone meaning to hurt us would knock—I knew that distracting myself wasn't a good idea until I knew whether or not the people at the door were friendly.

To pass the time, I paced the length of my room and went through different scenarios and outcomes while also making mental checklists of all our hidden weapons and possible exit points. This went on for half an hour. By the time Nick came to get me I had been contemplating whether or not it was worth the risk of eavesdropping on the conversation and possibly getting caught or reading someone's mind. Both options would have gotten me into big trouble if Nick had found out.

"Come on," Nick said from my doorway. He now had his sunglasses on. "There's some people here I want you to meet." That being said, he turned around and walked back towards the living area, knowing I would follow.

In the living room I found an array of strange people. Sitting on our sofa sat two guys: the one looked slightly anxious or nervous as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses and the other looked a little more relaxed, but still guarded. The one with glasses had dark hair with little bits of gray here and there and he had on a pair of worn out jeans and a rumpled shirt. The younger one had short blonde hair, some khakis and a thin white shirt that you could see the outline of his muscles through.

Near the table I had been sitting at not too long ago was a man with dark hair, sunglasses, and an expensive looking shirt and pair of jeans. I didn't have to read his mind to know that he was rich and a tad stuck-up. He seemed to be studying my school worksheets with mild amusement—probably because of my dopey answers to the five questions that I actually got around to answering.

In the kitchen was a light brown haired man with a bow and sheath of complicated arrows laid across the counter he was leaning against. Then there was a red-head roaming around the living room area. The guy was wearing some jeans, a navy blue shirt, and a leather jacket. The woman was wearing black leggings and a hoodie.

And, finally, leaning against the wall with about three feet of space between them, was a beefy blonde man with a gigantic hammer and a slim raven-haired man with what appeared to be futuristic handcuffs. They literally looked like they had walked out of a time machine from some strange medieval era in an alternate dimension. The hammer dude even had a cape!

I stuffed my clenched fists inside my hoodie's pockets and rocked back on my heels as the curious gazes of our… visitors, scrutinized me. I returned each of their stares coolly and then cocked my head at Nick.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to the…" I bit my lip as I tried to find a more polite term to use than 'intruders'. "… to our guests?"

Nick nodded his head and then pointed at each person as he said their names. "This is Clint Barton." Bow-and-Arrow guy aka Robin Hood. "Natasha Romanoff." Red-head aka Red Queen. "Tony Stark." Rich man aka Prince Pompous. "Steve Rogers." Muscley blonde aka Blondie. "Dr. Bruce Banner." Anxious nerd aka Einstein. "Thor Odinson." Hammer dude aka Goldilocks. "And," Nick sighed in a resigned way. "Loki Laufeyson." Raven-haired man aka Lucky Charms—Hey! He was dressed in green. I can't help if he reminds me of a leprechaun; all he needs is red-brown hair, a beard, and a green top hat.

I gripped the edges of an imaginary skirt and curtsied with an obviously fake smile on my face. Nick seemed to trust them enough to be able to relax, so I assumed they were all okay. However, that didn't mean I had to. I had made the mistake of blindly trusting someone once and I wouldn't do it again. After I straightened up, Nick placed a hand on my shoulder. "This is Senka Embers."

Steve stood up and walked over to where I was standing. Holding out his hand, he said, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Embers."

I hesitated for a moment as I eyed his outstretched hand before shaking it, but I didn't return his smile. They must have felt the bitterness coming off me 'cause no one else tried to come up and shake my hand except for Stark.

"So you're what? An associate of Fury's? A friend? So help me, if you say that you're his wife, I'll puke."

My eyebrows raised in surprise, not because of the assumptions, but because of his bluntness. I placed my hands on my hips and shook my head.

"I'm none of those things," I said.

"Then what are you?"

"She," started Fury as he stepped behind me. "Is my daughter."

Stark was silent for a moment before he burst out laughing. It took him a few moments to realize that Nick and I weren't laughing.

"You're serious?" he asked, taken aback. The rest of the group (excluding the leprechaun) looked surprised too, but they remained quiet, unlike rich-boy here.

"Yes," we said simultaneously.

Prince Pompous looked between us a few times. "Never would have guessed. You two look nothing alike. At all."

"I'm adopted," I clarified.

"Ah. That makes more sense," he said, grinning and putting an arm around my shoulders. "So tell me. What's it like being raised by a master spy?"

I smirked when I answered. "Oh, it's so very fun. Running for your life on a daily basis; memorizing how to assemble a nine millimeter; and it makes me so happy when we have to pack up our things every few months and move."

"I'll bet," he chuckled. A genuine smile grew on my lips. He might be a stuck up rich guy, but he didn't seem too bad.

"So why exactly are you and your buddies here?" I asked. The grin on Stark's face wavered. He glanced at Nick quickly, as if asking permission to tell me. I looked curiously over at him too. He sighed exhaustedly as he leant against the wall.

"It seems that there is a threat against the Earth," Nick began. "Again."

"What kind of a threat?" I questioned, dread uncoiling itself in my stomach.

"An alien threat," he answered.

"Like, real, honest-to-God aliens?" I asked, disbelief coloring my voice.

"You sound so surprised. It's not like it's the first time," Stark said.

I looked at him in confusion. "It's not?"

Now it was his turn to look confused. "'Course it isn't. Don't you remember Manhattan?"

"No, what happened in Manhattan?"

"Jeez, where were you nine years ago?" he asked in exasperation. I tensed at the question. I'm sure he hadn't meant anything by it, but the answer to his question wasn't something I liked to think about. Tony sensed the change in my demeanor and he dropped his arm from around my shoulders.

Nick cleared his throat. "Anyways," he said, getting back on subject. "It seems that the threat is targeting a particular person on the Earth."

When he didn't elaborate, I pursed my lips and made an impatient gesture. "Who is it that he's concentrating on?"

"Loki." I turned and saw Goldilocks was now standing rigidly with his hammer-thing in hand. To his left, Lucky Charms was looking distantly at the window, not seeming to notice anyone in the room.

"The brooding dude over there is the target?" I jerked my head toward Loki and he broke out of his reverie. He gave me a quick once-over as if he had just noticed my presence and then looked disinterestedly back to the window, returning to his own thoughts. Evidently, a plane of glass was more worthy of his attention than I or anyone else in the room was.

I returned my gaze to Thor and saw him nod his head gravely like he was worried for him. Looking closer, though, I saw no emotion in his eyes; no sympathy, anxiety, or even a hint of sadness. It was like he was hiding behind a wall. Made me wonder why he felt the need to act as if he was anxious for Loki and what kind of relationship the two of them had. "And does this threat have a name?"

"Thanos," replied Clint. I mouthed the strange name and nodded. It did sound alien.

"Alright, I have another question that I need answered," I said and everyone silently waited. "Why did you come here?"

"We need Fury's assistance in annihilating the threat," the red-head replied simply. Okay. I had already suspected that they all knew of Nick's past occupation and that they were associates of some kind to him back then, but the Romanoff chick had basically just confirmed it.

I crossed my arms. "Why do you need his help though? Isn't there anyone else you could have gone to?"

"Afraid not, ma'am," said Blondie. "No one else can give us the weapons we need to fight Thanos." I narrowed my eyes. Yep, they knew.

"I know that with him being the former director of S.H.I.E.L.D and all he had access to a lot of high-tech weapons, but that was over eight years ago. All those weapons were destroyed."

"We know, which is why we need Fury to give us access to all of S.H.I.E.L.D's weapons blueprints so we can rebuild a few of them," answered Banner.

In my peripheral vision I saw Nick give Bruce the stink eye. I turned on him now. "You seriously kept ahold of S.H.I.E.L.D's files?"

He sighed and nodded reluctantly. I ran my fingers through my hair before resting both of them interlaced behind my neck. I didn't understand him sometimes. What was the point of burning and blowing up the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D, but keeping ahold of the weapons files? It was idiotic. It's probably the reason people are chasing us all the time! "How do you know that there's a threat in the first place? How did everyone get mixed up with this Thanos guy?"

"That's a bit of a long story," said Thor.

"So give me the shortened version," I countered. He sighed, but agreed.

"Ten years ago, my brother made a deal with Thanos. He would give Loki everything he needed to take over the Earth and rule it. In return, Loki would trade him the Tesseract."

"Tesseract?" I asked.

"Basically, it's a phenomenal amount of pure energy in the shape of a glowing, blue cube," Tony said. When I nodded my head as if I understood, Thor continued.

"Thanos had warned Loki that if he failed, there would be… undesirable consequences. And now he is coming to make good on his promise."

"Okay," I sighed as I tried to process this. Stark's comment about this not being the first alien threat now made sense. "That explains how Loki and Thor got involved. And the rest of you are… what? Just friends trying to help Loki out? It seems kind of farfetched to me that you all would want to help out a previous terrorist," I said skeptically.

"Actually, we're using him as bait," Clint stated bluntly. I nodded.

"That makes much more sense." I tapped my foot against the ground. "So, I get that you're all chums, but there's still something I don't get. What exactly do you all think that you can do to stop Thanos? I mean, he's a da-" Fury cut me off with a sharp cough. He didn't appreciate my sailor mouth. "darn alien." I amended, discreetly rolling my eyes.

"Well if you hadn't been hiding under a rock all these years, you would know we're all technically heroes," Tony said cockily. "'Cept for Reindeer Games, of course." He gave Loki a pointed look at that.

"Heroes, huh?" I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," he said, as if I were stupid for thinking anything less. "We're the ones who saved the world from Rock of Age's evil rule." Neither Thor nor Loki seemed to care about Tony's allegation. "I am known as Iron Man. Capsicle here," Tony nodded his head Steve's way. "Is Captain America. Then there's the Hulk," Banner. "Black Widow," Romanoff. "Hawkeye," Barton. "And demi-god." Thor, evidently.

I tapped my fingers in a rhythm against my crossed arms. I'd have to ask what they meant exactly about the demi-god part later. "So you're saying that it's essentially your guy's jobs to know when there's a threat. Is that it?"

Stark tilted his head back and forth as he put half of his hands in his jean pockets. "More or less."

"Hmm." After that I just kind of stared off into space. That happens a lot when I take in too much information than I know what to do with. Mostly when I'm doing school; my brain just shuts down. I think that Banner thought that I was staring at him because he shifted uncomfortably. A moment later, I snapped out of it by shaking my head. I turned to Nick and casually asked, "So what does this mean for my schooling? Are you going to put it on hold or…"

"No, I'm not. You're behind enough as it is," Nick said firmly. My shoulders slumped and I groaned for about the thousandth time. I knew it was a long shot, but one can only hope… "You still have work to do. And if you don't want to miss rehearsal in…" Nick checked his watch. "…about 2 and a half hours, I suggest you get it over with."

My eyes widened in surprise. I had completely forgotten about rehearsal. In a blur of movement, I grabbed my worksheets off the table, picked my pencil up off the floor, and was running towards my bedroom door as if my life depended on it. I still had plenty of questions, especially for Nick, but those would just have to wait to be asked at a later time.

In record time I was able to complete both assignments, but when I glanced at my clock it said 4:13. I was over ten minutes late. I sprinted back to the living room with both of my finished assignments in hand and saw that everyone was still here, more or less still in their same positions. Deciding to ignore them for the time being, I jumped in front of Nick and literally shoved them in his face.

"Here! I've completed my history worksheet and written my paper for art. Can I go now?" My words were so fast that even I had trouble understanding them.

Nick read over my answers for the work sheet and skimmed through my essay while I bounced on my toes impatiently. Finally, Nick nodded. "This isn't your best work, but it's efficient-" He didn't even have time to finish his sentence before I was rushing back to my room.

When I emerged five seconds later, I had my worn black leather jacket on and I was struggling to get my guitar case strapped across my chest.

Jogging over to the door I swiftly unlocked it and called over my shoulder, "See you in three hours!"